When words spring from our lips
We taste them like wild honey
Savoring the tang of freedom.
But everything’s been said before
We see ourselves as titans
With words that shake the heavens.
But history is a cage
That corrals our thoughts like beasts
Tamed beasts don’t bite
They pace and sleep and die
In a world too small to understand.
But we speak with thorns in our tongues
And chomp on our bits
Imagining our reality so fiercely
That we banish our own history
Into the world of the dead,
And procrastinate understanding
So we can lick our lips and taste honey.